Blessed be the gardener who sees each leaf,
Who knows the reckless branch and tames it.
Blessed be the one who wields sharp blade and loving rake.
Blessed be the root torn out for weed
And blessed be the gardener who replants it.
Blessed be the moles who shoulder through tubers and bulbs,
Who loosen clay to loam, bring air beneath this sod.
Blessed be the water that helps earth crumble into itself.
Blessed be the sentinel cypress,
The gentle, leaning birch,
The tall and watchful oak,
The shape of green,
Well-tended and well loved.
Marguerite Beck-Rex © 2013